I Am Nothing

I dream that I am falling, faster and faster and the wind which was at first a whisper is screaming in my ears, raking its claws across my skin which is bare. I am naked and falling and the wind is like fire, too close. I can’t escape its cloying unbearable penetration. And then as if in response to my disdain for its touch, the wind is inside me. For a moment everything is silent. I feel as though the wind originated in me and that if I wished to I could send it forth into the world in whatever form I wanted. I feel utterly in control. I can’t imagine what my fear was all about. Then the wind begins to blow again, of its own accord, reminding me that I do not exist in a vacuum, that nothing ever really belongs to me. Things may come and stay for a while, but eventually, nothing is permanent. Yes. I remember all of this from Taoist and Buddhist teachings. I did my homework. I was a good girl. But the moment the wind begins to blow again feels nothing like reading those teachings. The pain of the searing wind is nothing compared to the sense of loss I feel. I will always be alone. And then it begins to happen. I am falling apart. Limb by limb. Cell by cell I am disintegrating. The wind carries my body to the four directions, to summon up an old saying, and I am left with nothing.